


My Good Friend

by Fairleigh



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Friends With Benefits, M/M, Post-Canon, Reunions, Tatooine (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-10-29 07:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20793248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fairleigh/pseuds/Fairleigh
Summary: A desert hermit patronizes a cantina, and a Wookiee threatens a Weequay.





	My Good Friend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gabriel4Sam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabriel4Sam/gifts).

“The usual?”

The man known as Ben Kenobi nodded silently in affirmation as he slid into the worn, allu-alloy seat at the bar. Although he wasn’t what a Mos Eisley cantina proprietor such as this one would be wont to call a true “regular,” he _had_ been showing up reliably in this particular cantina once every lunar cycle or so for nearly ten years, and he always ordered the same drink: a full pint of bitter yellow ale flavored with a dash of condensed blue bantha cream.

Ben didn’t mind being recognized like this. To the cantina proprietor, he was just an eccentric old man living alone in the Jundland Wastes for whatever crazy reasons of his own who reacquainted himself with civilization on occasion because he liked his ale. That he could also catch himself up with the latest galactic news and gossip while nursing along his drink was just part and parcel of the proverbial Mos Eisley Cantina Experience.

That he came primarily for the news and gossip and not for the drink _per se _was a minor detail he kept to himself.

“Thank you kindly,” Ben said, fishing a credit chip from an inner pocket of his cloak as the cantina proprietor arrived with his drink.

Ben settled into his seat, swirling his pint glass slowly, allowing the yellow ale and blue cream to mix into a vivid, verdant shade of green which could not be found naturally anywhere on a desert planet like Tatooine. The sand dunes and twin suns had a uniquely harsh beauty, but sometimes Ben did admit to missing the wild emerald riot of chlorophyll-based plant life found on other worlds.

He’d chosen a shadowy corner that put his back to the walls deliberately. In this spot, he was out of the way, cutting an unobtrusive figure, but he had an excellent view of the establishment as a whole. It was midafternoon, the hottest part of the day, and the cantina was at its busiest. The patrons were the usual motley crew of moisture farmers and tradespeople, entertainers and hookers, spacers and smugglers —

“I have what I promised you, I swear! I left it in the safe hands of my frien — ”

The hollow roar of a Wookiee pierced the lively din of cantina chatter, and in an instant, the patrons had scrabbled aside to clear some space for a brawl that was about to break out —

“Now, now, come; aren’t we both gentlemen? Is this really necessary — eeeuuuggggghhhhh!”

A Wookiee was lifting a rather shrewish looking Weequay off of his feet and high up into the air and shaking him like he was actually going to shake stray credits out —

“No, really, I have this friend! You’ll see! He’ll be here in just a few ticks of the chrono — ” the Weequay bleated as the Wookiee began to lift him overhead, body held horizontally like he would tear the Weequay in two at the waist. The Wookiee roared louder; the Weequay became even more panicked and shrill. By now the entire cantina had stopped what it was doing to take in the show. “I’m not lying! I swear my friend is — !” The Weequay’s nostrils flared as if he’d scented something. His head swiveled in Ben’s direction, and his black, beady eyes widened.

“Obi-Wan!” the Weequay cried, voice mingled triumph and relief. He was staring straight at Ben in his shadowy, no-longer-unobtrusive corner, and now so was half of the cantina. “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you! Obi-Wan should be good for the credits! _Right, Obi-Wan, right?!_ Why, Obi-Wan, he’s so honorable, you know, a veteran from the war, and on top of that, he’s a Jed — ”

Ben lurched to his feet.

Hondo Ohnaka. The Weequay was _Hondo Ohnaka_.

~*~*~

It’d taken a minor miracle of the Force to silence Hondo before he’d completely blown Ben’s cover, but Ben had just about managed it. And he’d just about managed to settle the little tiff Hondo was having with the Wookiee before it ended in bloodshed and/or dismemberment. (The disappointed cantina patrons had resumed their usual business shortly after Ben had yanked Hondo from the Wookiee’s furry grasp.)

“There, you see? I told you my friend’d be good for it!” Hondo said to the mollified Wookiee. “He’s a good man, is Obi-Wan — ”

“_Ben_,” Ben interjected smoothly.

“Um, right. Ben. Sorry,” Hondo continued, barely missing a beat. “He’s a good man, is Ben, and a reliable source of business. So Ben, you know, if you’re ever in need of the services of a Corellian freighter, my good friend Chewbacca here and his co-pilot Han Solo, they — ”

“Thank you, Hondo,” Ben interjected again, “that is ever so kind. Chewbacca, it’s been a pleasure. And yes, I will certainly be in touch should I ever require the services of a freighter. Now, I’m afraid I am in a bit of a hurry, so if you’ll excuse us … ”

The Wookiee — Chewbacca — placid as a nerf in new pasture now that he’d gotten his credits, merely shrugged and waved goodbye as Ben took Hondo by the shoulders and frog-marched him out of the cantina and straight into the nearest traveler’s inn.

The room at the inn Ben booked for the night had one double bed and little else to recommend it. Ben didn’t care; he didn’t think they’d be using the room for sleeping.

He was right. But he was wrong in that he’d thought they’d be using the room for talking. Talking, namely, to convince Hondo to keep silent about what he knew of Ben’s past. Somehow. Not that the Hondo Obi-Wan had known during the Clone Wars had ever been good at keeping anything to himself.

In the end, they didn’t do much talking. Instead, most of what they ended up doing involved sex. Lots of it.

They’d both changed, and they were both diminished. Ben was grayer, his skin less smooth. He was a fugitive from the Empire. Hondo’s horns were growing longer, and he was developing a bit of a paunch. He’d lost his pirate crew. Yet in spite of the time that had passed, in spite of what they had both lost, they remained familiar to each other, and unashamed. The urgent, animal pleasures of the flesh were a most welcome, if transient, distraction; Hondo knew what Ben liked.

“This won’t happen again if you tell anyone about me,” Ben warned Hondo afterwards as they lay side by side, sweat-damp and sweetly satisfied.

Hondo patted his cheek affectionately and chuckled. “I’ll have to make Tatooine a regular part of my Outer Rim rounds. You need to unwind more.”

Hmm. That promise wasn’t confidence inducing, not precisely, but Ben figured it was going to have to do. Besides, it wasn’t like there wasn’t _some_ upside to the arrangement …


End file.
